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Updated: May 5, 2025
I stood in the doorway of the building, staring gloomily, hollow-eyed at the well, at nothing, now that I stop to think of it. The manager of the place, an amiable, jocund descendant of Lazarus, approached me. "Quite a storm last night, Mr. Schmarck," he said, rubbing his hands on an oil-rag. I gruffly agreed with him in a monosyllable. "But it is lovely to-day, sir. Heavenly, sir." "Heavenly?"
I had only a vague recollection of the dawn. The thing that caused me the most concern was the discovery that we had run the last half of our journey in broad daylight with our acetylene lamps going full blast. I stared at the tiles, blinking and unbelieving. "Well, I'm dashed," I said, with a silly grin. "The moon will shine to-night, Mr. Schmarck " he began insinuatingly.
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